Gifted to the Fires
by ShaunaChe
Summary: A young, newly ordained priest learns that burning the demons still happen when he finds Kurt and Rahne praying in his parish.


Note: Don't own Kurt or Rahnee. Do own Father Patrick O'Connor. I know I messed up on Rahne's accent, I don't know the Scottish one well and it makes the spell cheek crazy anyway. I know some of this isn't canon but shrugs.  
  
GIFTED TO THE FIRE  
  
Father Patrick O'Connor was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had actually been ordained. That after all his hard work he really was a priest, assigned to St. David's Catholic Church under the portly and elderly, Father Michael Brennan. He liked this parish, the rich gold yellow of the church and the simple crucifix that dominated the area behind the alter and tabernacle. Ordinarily, at this time in the afternoon, he would be out doing any number of good-works, but this time he had an hour or so to use in reflection.  
He didn't expect anyone to be in the church, save the perpetual adoration chapel off to the side, so when he heard voices coming from the front he was puzzled. There were two people sitting in the foremost pew, one leaning against the other, and the soft murmur of voices held a touch of sadness to it. Yet, he couldn't really make out who they were, the light from the alter wouldn't let him see anything but silhouettes.  
Slowly, he approached them, something making him stay quiet and not announce that he was there. Stopping a short distance away, in a pew where he could hear them, he listened in.  
"Aye lad, I almost miss comin' ta mass. I always went at 'ome, but now there ain't to many people who come ta church here."  
"I know vhat you mean," the other person said. "I know I could use my image inducer, but that just seems an insult to God."  
"You canna hide from Him," the other nodded. Father O'Connor guessed that the first to speak was a Scottish woman, while the other a German man. Just come from their native land's judging by their accents.  
"No, but the rest of them vill only see a demon," the man answered.  
Now that was an interesting statement. Father O'Connor poked his head out from behind the pew, but he really couldn't see them too well from his vantage point, not even in silhouette. He moved through the pews to get a better view, but couldn't find one.  
"I know, Kurt, an' when I change they only see a wolf, or a were," the lady replied. "Both o us are excluded from tha congregation who say they except everyone."  
These two were mutants! How had they gotten into his church? He'd have to deal with this; it was part of his job. Yet, an inner voice wondered if it was part of his calling to kick people out of church simply because of a gene. Father O'Connor silenced it has he stood and approached them. The moment he stopped trying to be quiet they whirled.  
"A priest," she yelped, shrinking and changing into a wolf as the boy scurried over the pew and towards the alter with a strange cheetah-like gait. Now he could see him clearly, and he saw why the boy had called himself a demon. Yet, there was also something else, pure fear.  
"Rahne, come here so I can port!" The German demon yelled.  
These two are used to running for their lives the young priest realized, and something in him broke at that thought. No one should have to do that. "Wait! I'm not going to throw you out."  
The wolf skidded to a halt, and the demon raised yellow eyes to him in surprise, "You're not."  
"No, I'm not," they were still on edge. Even has he knelled down in front of them, cowering below the alter. He looked into the face of the blue mutant "What's your name?"  
"Kurt Vaugner," he said, even though his voice was even his spaded tail was tail whipping like a cat's. "This is mien frauline Rahne Sinclair." The wolf whined.  
"How long have you two been in America?"  
"Two years," Kurt answered, and the priest thought he saw his eyes dart around the room, though it was hard to tell with no pupils visible.  
"Would you like to come to my office? No one will bother us there," Father O'Connor said.  
"Danke," he answered.  
Both of them followed the priest on all fours, using the pews and pillars to hide behind. They were acting just like the abused children he'd seen during his training and volunteer work. Scurrying into his office, Rahne changed back into a young teenage woman with short pigtails and Kurt took an awkward seat on the only chair with an open back in it. Father O'Connor closed the door, and sat down on top of his desk, watching them.  
"Do you visit here often?" he asked, trying to calm them down.  
"Yeah, we do sah," Rahne answered, "when evah' there ain't people in here doin' somthin' that is. Kurt comes when it's dark out. Surprised ye haven't seen him collapsed on the floor all tired out."  
"How long has it been since either of you have had communion?"  
Both glanced down and away, though Kurt actually seemed to wince at the question. "People don't give communion to demons."  
"You aren't one?"  
"I'm the black sheep of the family."  
Rahne snorted, "More like the white sheep in a family of black sheep."  
Kurt winced again and Rahne apologized. "Nah, really sah, Kurt's justa fuzzy blue human. Just like I'm a fuzzy brown human when I'm in ma inbetween stage."  
"Vhen my parents vere vith the circus in Germany ve had someone vho came to us from the church and gave us the rites. He vas the same von vho tried to exorcise me and lead the burning."  
"Burning?"  
"At the stake sah," Rahne said after a long pause. "Jus like tha man ah saw has me father did ta me."  
"It isn't the first time the church has made a mistake and done that," Father O'Connor whispered to himself. Then said to them, "How old were you?"  
"Ah was thirteen," Rahne answered, "lucky for me Moira came an' stopped em and untied me before they had started the flames. They did it when I first started showin' me power."  
"Did they do the same to you?" Father O'Connor asked gently. "When you changed?"  
"I've never changed. I've always been like this," Kurt's voice was very soft now. "They caught me vhen I vas ten. I didn't know the town vas superstitious vhen I vent out vith my circus friends. They got away, I didn't."  
"You don't have to go on if you don't want to," the priest said when Kurt hesitated.  
"No, I have to go on this time."  
"You've told this before."  
"Once, I told it once vhen ve vere trading horror stories from our past," Kurt answered, "kind of a group therapy."  
"But you never did tell us much more lad," Rahne softly said, " except that ya teleported for the first time."  
"I couldn't teleport as soon as they caught me. I didn't know I could and I wouldn't have gone far anyway. They tied me up and lit the fire. Fur burns fast, and even vhen I got avay from them I vas still burning. My mother and father found me vith the help of my friends. They kept me inside the circus grounds until they could find someone to take care of me. Vhat vas the vorse vas the priest I thought vas my friend in the group that vas enjoying the fire," Kurt's voice was barely above a whisper.  
"Here I thought we were past lynching and stakes," the young priest moaned. "I'm sorry for what happened to you two, for what is still happening. If you want, come Sunday night and I'll make time to give you the Eucharist."  
"Danke."  
"Thank you sah."  
"I want you to remember something," he suddenly said has they began to walk out, no doubt to find a place where Kurt could teleport them home. "The sword that survives the fires becomes the finest blade of all. There are many saints gifted to the fires of hate, but their stories ignite the fires of love. Your stories of done the same with me."  
For a moment, he saw them smile, and then they vanished in a puff of smoke.  
Now if only he could do that to reach his next appointment on time. 


End file.
